Thursday April 23rd 2009 is a date I will never forget. On the Wednesday evening Simon and I were supposed to be going away to Dorset for a mini-break, but as Simon had a headache we decided to go down on Thursday morning instead.

We were up bright and early, just putting the last bits and pieces in the car when the phone rang. It was my daughter Kristie, who lived with my twin sister Tina and her husband, Woody, and their family. She told me that Tina was in hospital about to have an emergency operation. She had suffered a brain haemorrhage late on Wednesday night and was due in theatre any minute to have life saving brain surgery. I felt my legs go to jelly and I could hardly speak. I had been speaking to Tina only the evening before and she had been totally fine.

I went straight to Tina’s house as her children all needed to be cared for and I wanted to be with Kristie too. Tina and Woody had been unable to have children and had adopted seven learning disabled children over the course of several years. They ranged in age from three to seventeen at the time. It was an unreal morning, trying to hold myself together for the sake of the children, but desperately waiting for the phone call from Woody, who was at the hospital, to find if she had made it through the surgery. Finally just after lunch Woody rang to say she was in intensive care but that the surgery had been successful. I was over the moon. I had been praying so hard and felt that my prayers had been answered.

Within a couple of days Tina was moved to the High Dependency Unit and was doing well. She complained of the most dreadful headache but the staff told us that was quite normal due to her brain surgery. After just a few more days Tina was moved to a general neurological ward and appeared to be making excellent progress. She was able to walk and talk quite normally and have a shower and walk around the ward. The expectation was that she would be home within the week!

Kristie and I were visiting her daily and on the Thursday, just a week after her operation, we had all been sitting chatting about the programmes she would be watching that evening when the nurse brought her tea, which included a small bowl of ice cream. Within minutes Tina’s speech was becoming confused and then I noticed that she was having problems eating her ice cream. Her hand was making odd movements and she was unable to hold the spoon. I alerted the staff on the ward and they explained that she might have some fluid on the brain and would carry out a lumbar puncture to release any fluid. When I left the hospital that evening I was obviously concerned, but the staff had been very reassuring and it seemed that this was quite normal and that the lumbar puncture was routine.

The following morning I rang the hospital and they asked me to visit urgently. They explained that Tina was once again in intensive care. I was not at all prepared for what faced me that day. The consultant explained that Tina had suffered a massive stroke due to having a vasospasm, a rare side effect of the brain surgery. In layman’s terms, the blood vessels within her brain had gone into spasm and no blood had been able to reach the frontal lobes. I was warned that they fully expected her to die. I don’t know how I managed to physically stand by her bed, I was shaking and crying so much. She was lying there covered with wires and tubes, buzzers kept going off and she was fitting, which was terrifying to watch. The machines that were keeping her alive required almost constant attention by the special nurses who were with her. I couldn’t believe that she had been doing so well and now they really thought she would die. I prayed so much that day, I asked God why this happened and kept telling Tina over and over again how much I loved her and that she would come through this ok. When I eventually left the hospital that evening I emailed every healer I could find on the internet asking if they could please send Tina healing.

I really didn’t think I’d be able to sleep that night, but nervous exhaustion thankfully sent me straight to sleep. I awoke in the morning dreading the news from the hospital. I phoned and they said she was ‘stable’, but added that there had been no improvement. I went to the hospital as soon as I could and was met by the ward sister who told me to expect the worse. She explained that only the machines were keeping her alive, and even if she did survive the prognosis was that she would be severely disabled and unable to enjoy any quality of life as her brain was so badly damaged. Yet again I sat with her, talking to her, stroking her hand gently. I prayed that she would not leave me. I had lost my Mum, my Dad and my brother all within the space of three and half months just a few years before, and I just couldn’t bear the thought of losing my twin sister too. I talked to her about our childhood, about the fun we used to have, about family memories, even about the battles we’d had. I just felt that I could not give up.

I was sure one day that she had lightly squeezed my hand as I was about to leave, but the nurses assured me that she wouldn’t be able to do that. They said that her brain was unable to distinguish my voice and that she most probably did not have the ability to understand anything I said to her. I ignored their advise and just carried on chatting to her right up until the moment I had to leave in the evenings. Days went by and there was no progress and it became more and more likely that she would just fade away. I was totally heartbroken. I had never lived through such a time. Being an identical twin is impossible to really understand unless you are a twin yourself. We had been together since before we were born. We had shared virtually every part of our lives, most of our childhood and teenage experiences, and even though we had fought dreadfully at times, we were always there for each other and loved one another more than can be explained. Now, days in to her stroke, I was trying to come to terms with the real possibility that this was the end. That I would not have my twin sister anymore.

They decided to carry out a further operation to install a shunt, a drain in her brain, which would release the fluid from her brain into her stomach. The operation was in itself risky, but without it she didn’t stand a chance, the fluid in her brain was building all the time. Again there was the dreadful time of waiting to see if she had pulled through and thankfully she did. We waited for a couple more days to see if there was any improvement, but still Tina just lay there motionless, on full life support, with every vein in her body seemingly linked to some needle to give her life saving fluids and drugs. They even had to start using the veins in her feet as they were running out of veins in her arms, her hands and her shoulders.

I continually asked God why this was happening and what more could I do to help her and her family through this, but I was too upset to hear any answers. Finally, in desperation, I called a medium that I found on the internet. I didn’t want to phone anyone who knew me, I really wanted someone who had no previous knowledge of who I was. Immediately she began speaking to me, she described our Dad in the most wonderful detail, and told me that he was talking about someone very close to me who had suffered a bleed on the brain. She said this person was in a critical condition and was literally between worlds. She then went on to describe our Mum, both physically and her character, and said that she was with both of us. Amazingly she also described our brother and said that he was looking over us and that he was giving me the strength to cope with it all. She told me that Tina was aware of them with her. I asked her why this was happening and she said that Tina had chosen to go through this before she was born. She explained that it was an experience Tina’s soul had wanted and importantly it would show who would support her and who wouldn’t, who would be able to understand, and who would turn away due to the severity of the situation. I did ask if Tina would survive and the medium told me that she couldn’t answer that, but said that Tina had a very strong spirit and that whatever happened was supposed to happen. I was stunned by such an accurate reading, but still had wished that I could have been told what would be the outcome.

The next day I went into the hospital again and as I walked in I said my usual ‘Hi Sis’ and took her hand. I was sure her eyelids moved and then thought I felt her gently squeeze my hand again. I didn’t mention it to the nurses, who I felt sure thought I was imagining it, but inside I felt a warm glow and a real sense of joy. Something in me realised that she had turned the corner, that she would be ok.

For the first time in weeks I felt an inner calm, an inner strength, I knew I could cope, as if I had been shown there was light at the end of the tunnel. I was full of optimism for her future. Tina’s small movements became almost like a secret code between her and I. Many times that day her eyelids moved as I said something funny and her fingers softly brushed mine. I gave her a kiss goodbye before I left and said I’d see her the next day.

The following day I was over the moon to see that Tina had her tracheostomy tube removed. She could breathe on her own! That was a huge hurdle. As usual I said ‘Hi Sis’ when I arrived and I almost fell over when a few moments later she uttered, in a very hoarse voice,’ Hi’ – she was back!!! The nurses were laughing and clapping and the whole atmosphere in the unit was lifted. She didn’t say anything again for a few days, but she still kept moving her eyelids and through her squeezing my hand I could feel her strength grow day by day.

After several more weeks Tina slowly made progress to the point where she was transferred to a neurological rehabilitation unit within the hospital. She was paralysed on her right side, still doubly incontinent, unable to even turn herself, unable to swallow food, and only able to say a few words, but she could laugh, and we would share afternoons laughing at the times we had been through together. I would sit with her and we would watch comedy shows and it would lift her spirits. It really did seem that through joy and laughter she became better and better. Through everything that had happened to her she had managed somehow to keep her sense of humour.

Over the two years Tina spent in two specialist rehabilitation hospitals, she showed incredible inner strength and courage, overcoming the most enormous obstacles. Learning to do even the most basic things from scratch which most of us take for granted. She suffered dreadful setbacks, crippling pain in her paralysed arm and leg, frustration of a damaged brain that would not function as she wished, and the agony of a broken hip from falling over when trying to use a walking stick. She had to be admitted to a normal hospital for a hip replacement operation and this caused even more problems as people didn’t understand her speech and her understanding of language, having had such a serious brain injury. Everytime they asked her if she required painkillers she said yes, even if she didn’t, and by the time she was returned to the rehab unit she was totally bombed by the amount of morphine in her body. It took weeks for her to get back to some sense of normality. She suffered incredible loneliness and depression whilst trying to come to terms with the fact that most importantly, she had lost her independence.

There were so many experiences that had me in tears over the time she was in hospital, but one of the most memorable occasions for me was when she was first able to stand, albeit with support, and we could have a hug. It was the best hug I’d ever had. We were both in tears as for the first time in many months I held her in my arms and she could hug me back too. Another wonderful memory was just before her first Christmas in hospital. The nurses organised a Carol Service and arranged for a local choir to come along and we all sat singing the carols. Many of the patients sang too, including Tina, who still has a beautiful singing voice. They gave her a microphone and she sang Once in Royal David’s City. With tears streaming down my face it took me straight back to when we were both five and were angels in our school nativity play and we had sung that very song together back then.

I was amazed by the most wonderful work the teams at the rehabilitation units undertook to get Tina as far along the recovery route as possible. Their patience and understanding was incredible. I was overwhelmed by the gentleness and kindness of other relatives visiting their loved ones who were also going through the most traumatic times and yet there was a camaraderie between us all, all supporting one another and all living for the time when those dear to us would regain even a little of their lives. The love within the rehab units was so strong. They were places of both immense sadness and unbelievable joy, much laughter and sometimes, sadly, unbearable heartache.

I was stunned by the kindness from the wonderful worldwide community of healers, many of whom stayed in contact with me throughout her two years in hospital. The strangers, literally scattered across the globe who showed an interest and continued to send their healing thoughts to Tina. I will never be able to thank them enough. I was so saddened by the lack of support from the friends and relatives that Tina had. I would never have thought that those whom she had loved and considered close backed away and found themselves too busy to even phone to find out how she was. I was appalled by the total lack of support from social services who I had assumed would be able to offer some kind of help to Woody and the children, but who in reality basically told me that as the children had been adopted and not fostered there was nothing they could do. Just as the medium had said, it was an experience which showed people’s true colours.

It was an eye-opener where friends and relatives were concerned, but it has made us both realise who really matters and who had only been there for the good times. The marriage vow, ‘for better, for worse’, often comes to my mind when I think of the people in Tina’s life who moved away from her and her family during this time, when they needed the love and support the most, and sadly received it the least. Some people even voiced that they felt it would have been better that she had just died. It is something I have tried to understand, but just can’t grasp. Maybe the lessons are for all of them, maybe they too one day may require those they hold dear to have the patience and understanding to deal with such a trauma, who knows. Some things are beyond my comprehension and maybe I will find the answers when I am once again back with my family in the spirit world.

Tina amazed all the consultants and specialists involved in her care. They said many times that her recovery was a miracle, that it should have been impossible for her to make the progress that she has. Although paralysed on her right side she is still improving. She has learnt to walk again, to eat again, has regained her speech, kept most of her memories and importantly has made new friends through her involvement in stroke clubs that she regularly attends. She has become an avid reader, has learnt to master her i-phone and laptop, how to use Spotify to listen to her favourite music, and can play a mean game of scrabble! I feel blessed that I still have my sister and that I have been able to share in such an enlightening experience.

I thank Mum, Dad and our brother Ray, for the continued love and support they have given us, without which I am sure I would have crumbled. I thank God for Tina’s ongoing recovery and for the strength I was given to cope with this. Most of all I thank Tina for being my twin, she is an inspiration.

Simon and I went down to North Devon a couple of weekends ago. I used to live there and sometimes feel a real longing to drive along familiar country roads and walk along a typical sandy Devon beach and feel the fresh sea air on my face. I have a friend who lives just outside Barnstaple, Susan Roberts, I have mentioned her in my blogs before. She set up and runs the English Psychic Company, and she was my first real teacher of mediumship. She ran a tight ship and accepted nothing but the best. My evenings in her classes were a mixture of trepidation and relief. She set such high standards and expected nothing less of us, her pupils. She wouldn’t even accept you on a course until you had passed a test to prove that you had some potential, and that was nerve-wracking in itself.

I first met Susan after my Mum had died and I had heard her (Mum, not Susan!) talking to me in the loo, always late at night. The first time it happened I thought it was my imagination, but immediately as I thought that Mum told me it wasn’t. I came out of the loo and didn’t tell anyone what had just happened as I was sure they would think I was crazy. The following night, just before bed, again in the loo, Mum talked to me again, I told her that I was sure she was a wishful thought and again she told me she wasn’t. Well if you are real, I said, make the lights go on and off. To my utter amazement, the lights flickered! You have never seen anyone move so fast out of the loo! This happened for several nights. Nothing at all in the daytime, but come my last visit to the loo, there would be Mum. I didn’t see her, but I could feel her presence, her warmth and love, and I could hear her voice, definitely hers, not mine, but inside my head.

During the day I was so sad, missing my Mum so much, but feeling quite mixed up knowing that in the evening there would be this very odd form of contact. I tried to reason with myself that the whole thing was just too bizarre and to be honest I often felt that I was losing the plot. It was a secret I kept to myself. Part of me dreaded going to the loo because I was quite afraid, but another part would be looking forward to the comfort that I felt every night knowing that Mum was ok and was still around.

After a week or so I decided I really should do something about all of this. Ever since I was a very young child I had been aware of spirits, of energies around me, of knowledge that from my earthly life I shouldn’t’ or couldn’t have known, but this was very different, I had never had an ongoing communication with someone who I had known and loved before.

I had met a spiritual healer, Liz Gilmour, at a local spiritual fayre a couple of years before and had kept her business card in my purse. I felt sure that she would know of someone locally I could go and see to try to find out what was going on. I rang Liz and without telling her any information at all I asked if she knew of anyone who could communicate with spirits. Without hesitation she recommended Susan Roberts. She told me that Susan had an excellent reputation and was very down to earth. I rang Susan straight away and made an appointment which was for a week later. She asked me to bring along a photo of the person I would ideally like to get in contact with, but she said she couldn’t always guarantee that that person may communicate. Apart from that she didn’t ask me anything else at all. Part of me was so excited to be seeing a professional medium and the other part was absolutely terrified. I had no idea what to expect and kept feeling the biggest butterflies in my tummy every time I thought about it.

Eventually the day of the reading arrived and with an enormous amount of trepidation I went along to see Susan. It was such a relief to be welcomed by a ‘normal’ woman who immediately put me at my ease. She showed me into her sitting room which spookily overlooked a graveyard, I remember thinking how funny that was. I showed her the photo I had taken along and straight away Susan told me it was a photo of my Mum who had died three weeks before, She told me about Mum’s illness and how she had died. Then, much to my amazement, and laughing as she told me, she said that Mum had been talking me in the loo! Everything Susan told me was absolutely accurate. I skipped out of her house and driving home felt so uplifted and positive totally knowing that my Mum had been chatting to me.

I had no idea at the time that I would again be in contact with Susan within a few weeks. My brother Ray died totally unexpectedly just six weeks after my Mum. He was only fifty and was found in his bed at home. At the time we had no idea how he had died or what was the cause of his death. I spoke to Susan just days after Ray died, as again I was sure I could feel him close to me. She gently started to explain that it was most probably too early for him to be able to make contact, but as she spoke I could sense her hesitating. She asked if a red tricycle meant anything to me. It certainly did. As I said yes she started receiving more evidence from Ray. She told me exactly how he had died and most importantly for me, that he had felt no pain. She told me that his heart had literally just stopped. That he was here one minute and gone the next. Just like that. No pain at all. I was so relieved as I had been concerned that he would have been distressed. Sure enough when we received the results of his autopsy it confirmed that his heart had just stopped and that his passing to spirit would have been instant.

Over the years I have been fortunate to have met several wonderful mediums who have given me the most fantastic evidence and messages from those I have lost. I do think that if I hadn’t met Susan at such a difficult time in my life I would have been very doubtful, but she was so accurate with everything she said that she gave me confidence to explore the amazing world of spirit both as a medium myself, being able to give comfort to those missing their loved ones, and as someone myself so pleased to hear from those I love who are in spirit.

I have absolute confidence in Susan and when she told me that over the years she had been contacted by several spirits who wanted their experiences of death heard by a wider audience, I could appreciate why they had chosen her to tell their stories. She had written their stories exactly as she heard them, and over a long period had built up quite a selection. Spirits contacted her from all walks of life with very different stories to tell. She decided to bring the stories to the stage and called the production The Afterlife Monologues. Several of her students took the roles of the spirits and spoke in the first person, recounting their memories. I was intrigued and was so sad when I was unable to attend the first time it was on at a theatre in Devon. It was by pure chance just a couple of months ago that I asked Susan is she was thinking of putting on another production. She said that one was planned for the end of March. That was wonderful news! I could go and walk along the beach, see some old friends, and go and see the Afterlife Monologues all within a long weekend. I booked the hotel straight away and Simon booked the time off work. We were so lucky with the weather. Our journey from our home in Hampshire was just beautiful. We stopped by a field of new-born lambs, watching them running and playing, then found a country pub where we enjoyed a fantastic lunch on a sunny roof terrace. It couldn’t have been better.

We met Susan at her premises and sat near the back so that we could see everything. The stories from the spirits were just incredible, The readers were amazing and bought the stories to life. You really felt they were telling their own experiences. When we spoke to some of the readers in the break they said that they could feel the emotions of the spirits whose stories they were reading, which was certainly conveyed to us in the audience. Simon, who I had thought may find it all a little boring, actually really enjoyed the evening. Afterwards when we were sitting having a drink in the bar in the hotel he was asking so many questions about spirit. Far more than he ever has in the years we have been together. I believe that the moving and realistic way in which the experiences were bought to life really made his mind open up to the reality of our ongoing lives in our spiritual form. I do hope that one day Susan will make a dvd of these stories so that an even wider audience can experience these for themselves.

I do think that one thing that so many of us find so hard to talk about is physical death. It is a subject that many people avoid as they say it is depressing and also of course many find the whole thing terribly frightening too, which is understandable. It is though, the one thing that we all know for sure will happen to us at some time, yet most of us are totally unprepared for it. We are also unprepared for the death of a loved one. It is almost taboo to talk about such things unless you are talking to an insurance salesman or a solicitor who is drawing up wills.

I know that when my parents and my brother all died within less than four months I wouldn’t have been able to cope without the certainty that their spirits, their souls, still existed. It was largely thanks to Susan and her spiritual communications that I could manage to get through those dark days. I was talking to her after my Dad had died, telling her how very sad I was and how much I missed him. She told me something I will never forget. She said that whilst we are all so upset here for losing someone we love, at the same time there are massive celebrations in the spirit world as that person is being reunited with loved ones who have passed before. She said to imagine that my Dad was on a ship, leaving the shore, waving to me as he went, but when the ship completed its journey, he would reach another shore where his Mum and Dad and his brothers and sisters would be waiting to greet him. I thought of that many times over the years, knowing how pleased Dad would have been to see his family and in particular his twin sister Mary again, knowing how much he missed her throughout his life.

We had a wonderful time back in North Devon. I did manage to walk along my old local beach and enjoyed feeling the warm sand between my toes, breathing in the crisp clear air. We drove down many winding country lanes, shared lovely times with old friends and Simon took some great photographs. What a great mini-break we had, and how delighted I was to have been able to see the Afterlife Monologues. I know the stories and experiences of those spirits will stay with me always.

The more I’ve been coming to the realisation that I am a spirit living a human existence, the more I’ve been thinking about the life choices my soul made before I began this human life.

I have the feeling that when it came to choosing my parents I was like an excited child in a sweet shop. There were just so many choices, and metaphorically speaking, I filled my pink striped sweetie bag with the many personality traits and ensuing emotions that I wanted to experience during my upbringing. A real mixture of sweet and sour, soft and crunchy, chewy and creamy, fruity and nutty! I am sure my guides must have been exasperated trying to find parents that would fulfill my criteria. I think on the whole they did fairly well!

I was born the youngest of identical twins, with a brother five years older than us and we had to share parents who were definitely interesting and would certainly teach us many different and opposing lessons.

My Dad, known as Ken, was tall and slim with broad shoulders, sandy wavy hair, and the most wonderful twinkling blue eyes. He was a charmer, with a fantastic dry wit and I could see why my Mum had initially fallen him.

Dad and his twin sister Mary were born in 1926, into a large and very poor working class family in Hendon, North London. His Mother Selina, was known as ‘the girl with second sight’ in the village where she was born in Scotland and Dad said she always ‘knew’ things that were unexplainable.

My Mum, Sheila, was four years younger than Dad and although she lived less than three miles from him, in Golders Green, their upbringings were poles apart. There were many romanticized rumours of Irish blood, a Hungarian Jewess and even a Marquis somewhere in her ancestry. Mum was raised in a liberated, educated, middle-class environment, as an only child, by her Father Ray, and an eclectic collection of aunts. She was told her Mother, whom her Father had not married, had abandoned her when she was a baby.

Mum was very attractive, tall, possessing a wonderful perfect 36:24:36 figure, with shapely long legs, silky mahogany hair and huge brown eyes framed by incredible, natural long eye lashes she always attracted the attention of men.

The saying ‘opposites attract’ could have been written with Mum and Dad in mind.

Mum would like to invite many friends round, put on loud music and dance around the sitting room singing and laughing. Dad would prefer to sit quietly, reading a book or listening to classical music. Mum was liberal and carefree as a parent, Dad was strict and ensured that his long list of rules were adhered to.

Mum loved to go out and socialize, whereas Dad would prefer to be at home pottering around the garden. Mum was a free spirit and hated being tied down to routine, Dad insisted that Sunday lunch was on the table at exactly 1 o’clock and tea at 5 o’clock, not a minute later.

Dad was a saver and didn’t like to spend money if he could possibly help it, Mum loved nothing more than going shopping!

Their marriage was a match made in hell in so many ways. Why they ever married I never really understood. Was it my fault? Was it my ‘parent order’, made many years before in the universal sweet shop, that made them meet and marry? Or, had there souls asked, maybe even jointly, to experience a fifty year marriage to a partner with absolutely nothing in common? I hope to find out one day.

My parents were, separately, great people, but together, my goodness, sparks flying is the understatement of the year! Mum’s temper was instant and would flare within moments, my Dad would simmer and then explode like a violent volcano. What a combination! Did I really ask to experience these traits? I must have done, but with hindsight I feel just one parent with a temper would have been enough.

As we became older, their rows became more physical. More and more of their possessions were smashed, damaged and broken as they hurled them at each other. Luckily neither of them were good shots and they very rarely managed to hit their targets!

I can’t even begin to count how many times one or the other left. Normally in the middle of a heated row a few items would be hurriedly stuffed into a few carrier bags and we children would be wondering who was leaving this time. If our Mother left we would normally leave with her, and in a strange way it was always an adventure full of excitement and wonderment. We wouldn’t know where we were going or who we’d be staying with. In fact it was through many of these surprise breaks from home that we got to know some of our more interesting far-flung relatives, who I am sure we would have never met under normal circumstances. Then, sometimes within a few days, or at most a couple of months, there would be an emotional reunion, all would be forgiven (but I am sure not forgotten), the family would be back together again and the house would be full of love and laughter again.

As I said, separately, they were marvellous parents. I learnt so many different facets of life from each of them. Dad had a wonderful way of bringing nature to life. We would spend many hours in the garden together where he would teach me the magic of growing the most beautiful plants. We discussed the wonderment of mother earth and the natural beauty of the planet. He taught me that divine power was within everyone and everything.

I would sit holding his huge hands whilst we would be listening to the most haunting classical music, both of us with tears rolling down our cheeks, almost unable to cope with the emotions the music would arouse in us. I shared a very close spiritual connection with my Dad from my earliest memory and I am sure that it will transpire that we have been together in many lives before.

With a wicked sense of humour Dad would have the whole house full of laughter. He had a wonderful collection of his own stories that we would beg him to re-tell again and again, many of them included mystical creatures with the most wonderful names, like Ika-mo-blob-a-spit, who I remember was a special dragon with magical powers.

Dad had been aware of spirit since he was five when his twin sister, Mary, had been killed in a road accident. He had seen her throughout his childhood and still spoke to her as I was growing up. He also used to spend time talking to my late Grandfather, who had died before I was even born.

Mum was always extremely well-groomed, with her perfectly applied make up, and looking more like a model than a Mum, she was surprisingly cuddly and very caring. She adored playing with us and had an enormous amount of patience helping us with our schoolwork. She always said that her favourite time in her whole life was when we were all young. I think having missed out on a Mother’s love in her own childhood she never wanted us to feel the loss and pain she had felt.

She was a fantastic cook and we would spend hours preparing big family dinners together. She’d always have popular music blaring out of the record player and depending on what was playing we would often stop cooking and be jiving and bopping around the kitchen.

She was a very good medium herself although she only used her gifts to help those who were close to her. Interested in all things spiritual, Mum often took herself off to what I thought at the time were mysterious meetings. She would come home and tell me all about it, but I was too afraid to pay much attention, but I do remember that her guide was a gypsy girl called Topsy. That terrified me, thinking that Topsy would appear at any moment as I was sure that she would be hiding in the house somewhere and would be watching me.

Mum instilled rules for life in me that I still try to live by. Her overwhelming wish was that everyone would treat each other as they would like to be treated. She would do anything for anyone and over the years I saw her befriend and help many people. It was just a shame that she and my Father didn’t adhere to the same philosophy when it came to their own relationship!

Every house we lived in was full of spirits. All of us were aware of them. I often saw faces on walls, people at windows and shadows moving across the landing. As I grew older more and more things would be happening to all of us, no matter which house we lived in. My most worrying times were when the towels would be moved from the towel rail in the bathroom. You could just be sitting on the loo and watch them, one by one, fall onto the floor. I used to be too afraid to move and would yell for Mum to come and rescue me. She’d always walk in and just say “God Bless You, now please leave” and tell me everything would be fine, but it was never fine for very long.

I question now if there was so much energy in our house due to the heightened emotions of my parents.

Throughout their lives they both suffered with serious illnesses and it was during these times that their love for each other really shone out. The only problem was that when both were well they would start arguing, all over again!

I asked for a mixed bag of sweets, and that’s certainly what I received. I can’t imagine now having any other parents who would have given me such a broad spectrum of emotions and experiences throughout my childhood. Yes, I would have preferred them not have spent so much arguing, but then I am sure that within their difficult relationship were lessons for all of us within the family.

I do think that we tend to concentrate on the lessons we are taught by our parents, but what we must not forget is that they too are developing spirits, and would have chosen souls with our attributes to be their children. What a massive testament to the incredible organisational skills of spirit to bring together the right people, in the right place and at the right time. I can only imagine that from the millions of souls they look for a ‘best fit’. What a headache it must be!

My parents love was the greatest gift I ever received. My childhood wasn’t calm, rarely plain sailing, it wasn’t often easy, but what it showed me is that love overcomes everything and is everything.

Several years ago I had been through the most difficult year of my life. My Mum, my brother and my Dad were all taken to spirit within weeks of each other and I felt my heart was breaking. At the same time, as well as dealing with my own personal losses, there was so much negativity everywhere.

With the rest of the world I watched in horror as the events unfolded on 9/11 and I felt so useless, as if there was absolutely nothing I could do to help, even in a small way, to make the world a better place. I felt desolate.

Every time I put the television or radio on there was more depressing news. I have never understood how people could be so cruel to one another, or use their own greed to take from the needy. There seemed to be an avalanche of distressing events on a global scale.

I sat in the quiet and asked my guides how this could happen. How could so many people be in such distress? Why were children dying of starvation? Why were so many countries at war? I was questioning my faith in God or the Higher Powers. I felt so sad in my heart and was desperate for answers. I wanted someone to shout that it was all a mistake, that everything would be put right.

I felt my writing guide come in close. I have learnt that a light stroke of my hair on the back of my head is the unmistakable nudge to find a piece of paper and a pen and just to listen and write what I hear, nothing more.

This is what I received.

Life’s Lessons.

If life were as kind as we thought it should be,

there’d be no worries or woes, everything would be trouble-free.

There would always be sunshine and only rain at night,

there’d be no storms to wreak havoc, we’d never witness nature’s might.

Every child would be born perfectly healthy and strong,

There’d be no need to teach right from wrong.

There would be no famines and certainly no wars,

Every country in harmony with its neighbour next door.

No violence, no terror, there would be no need,

no-one would be selfish or suffer from greed.

But in reality, this just isn’t so,

we all need life’s lessons to help us to grow.

To overcome difficulties, to rise above pain,

we need challenges and dreams, it’s from those that we gain.

Whenever I find myself questioning the unfairness of situations that the innocent find themselves in, the terrible traumatic events that so many have to go through, the heartbreak and tragic losses people experience, I read this and try to understand. It is not easy. It takes a lot for me to look at the bigger picture and try to accept that our souls have to move forward through these dreadful lessons of life. I hope that one day we will find an easier way.

It’s amazing how many spiritually minded people I’ve met over the years who have experienced what I would call ‘complicated’ lives.

I do wonder sometimes if people become more spiritually aware because they have had to overcome difficulties in their lives, or, were they born ‘knowing’ that they had chosen to walk a problematic path through life because their soul was already spiritually aware?

In my own experience it has been rare to talk to anyone at a workshop or in a spiritualist church, circle etc who has not gone through some pretty traumatic events in their life. You may say, well that goes for everyone, but I truly believe that is not the case. I have known many, many people over the years, who have had what I would call, easy lives, and who are not at all interested in anything spiritual.

So, (avoiding the are we/aren’t we re-incarnated discussion for the moment) if we accept that we are re-incarnated, then when we are ‘ in-between’ lives do we sit with a long list of experiences that we can choose for our next life? Do we somehow get ‘points’ for each testing experience we manage to work through,? Do more points make for an easier life the next time or is it like a ladder of achievement where we move further and further up the more points we have accumulated?

Are we given a series of budgets of sorts for various parts of our life. For example, we would have an emotional budget/a body budget/intelligence budget etc, etc. So we can choose, from the body budget, for argument’s sake, to have beautiful eyes and good skin, but that to keep within budget we may also have to choose to have knock knees and big feet? Or, could we choose to be the most intelligent person in the world and know that we are going to inherit a vast amount of money but end up blowing all our inheritance on an invention that never takes off? Sometimes, though, we may be given the choice of a limitless budget, where in our naivety we choose what we consider at the time to be the best financial circumstances, the very best parents, the most amazing healthy and beautiful body, just to find that these set of circumstances don’t actually give us any spiritual warmth but that they may in fact teach us invaluable lessons.

Do we choose experiences just for us, or do we sometimes choose them so that others can learn, grow, or blossom from dealing with us/our problems/our conflicts etc?

In our ‘in-betweeny’ lives, when our souls are in a place of perfection, does the list seem less daunting? I do believe that I thought I could conquer the world when I was sat there with a pen in my hand, ticking away, with no realisation of how very distressing, painful and troubling so many of my choices would be and how very long this life might seem once I was here!

Thankfully, and hopefully, most of my trials and tribulations are behind me (unless I stupidly ticked even more boxes that I am yet unaware of) and I do feel that I am in a much happier and peaceful place in my life now. If living this life is about learning lessons I certainly feel I have been in the classroom long enough, and if there is an exam at some point I have without doubt spent many years on revision and should pass with flying colours.

Does some higher power choose for us? Or … the really big question I used to ask …. is it all totally out of our control? Is everything random? I am positive that is not the case. An excellent medium and friend, Susan Roberts, from Barnstaple, North Devon, gave me the most accurate readings from my loved ones in spirit several years ago, which included some information about my future. At the time I didn’t dare to believe her prophecies because they were so positive and exactly what I had secretly wished for. Everything she said, to the minutest detail, happened, just as she had explained. So, obviously there was a plan in place, somewhere, which she (or her guides) could access. I just thank my lucky stars that I actually ticked a few good boxes along the with the challenging ones!

I would love to know the answer to these questions, but I am pretty certain that I won’t know the definitive answer until I’m sitting on a cloud somewhere, between lives, with my guides, going through yet another list!

I have loved animals all my life, well, that is, apart from spiders, which tend to freak me out a little, but I am happy to catch them and put them back outside and must admit I have squashed the occasional wasp … sorry God … just can’t cope with them at all.

So, where was I? Oh yes, me and animals. Ever since I can remember I have been surrounded by various pets. My parents had an Alsatian when I was very young, Bruce, who I gather adored my twin sister and I because we would sit in our high chairs and call him ‘Fru’ (we couldn’t pronounce Bruce) and feed him anything that we didn’t like. As an animal loving family we went on to have a collection of cats, dogs, rabbits, hamsters, guinea pigs, gerbils, tortoises, goldfish, tame hedgehogs and even a salamander.

When I first married at 22 I was feeling quite lost with no pets around me. My twin had decided that she wanted a kitten and I knew she was going to look at a litter. What I didn’t know was that she couldn’t bear to leave without the last kitten and arrived on my doorstep with a little black bundle of fluff with the biggest green eyes I’d ever seen. Babs had arrived. Her mother was Burmese, and her father was a moggie, but Babs didn’t like to even think about that, she looked and behaved like a full Burmese, which meant she felt she was far superior to any of the other cats in the neighbourhood.

She was never what you would call a cuddly kitten. She would sit on your lap for a couple of minutes and then be off climbing. I say climbing because that was one of her favourite past-times. She would climb up the walls hanging onto the wallpaper, climb up the curtains and sit at the very top and then fly across the room and land on a top shelf, then spring off again and she’d be balancing on the top of the open door. I had never known a cat like it. We lived in a bed sit, so our bedroom was in our sitting room, or if you like, our lounge included a bed, whichever way you want to look at it – it was a small space and we had to share it with Babs. In the middle of the night she sidled under the covers and took great delight in sharpening her claws on our unsuspecting feet or legs. She was the wildest of cats. She grew ever more wild as the months went on, to the point where she would sit in wait on our garden wall for the neighbour to come out into her garden and then leap off the wall and attack her. For no apparent reason she would have violent outbursts attacking everyone and everything in sight. I was at my wit’s end. I was covered in scratches and bites, everything in the flat was scratched and chewed. She even hissed at me when I arrived home from work and would walk sideways growling, which is pretty scary!

I managed to get her into a wicker basket, and with her hissing and growling all the time we were on the bus, I took her to the vets to ask his advise. I had always thought that if you treated an animal with love and affection they would respond lovingly, but Babs had taught me that she didn’t share that belief. The vet tried to examine her. I had warned him that she could be quite vicious but he assured me, in a very condescending manner, that with his vast experience he knew how to cope with any cat. By the time he had managed to get Babs back in the basket he had been bitten and scratched many times. Babs had won. He shook his head in disbelief and without any tact whatsoever, told me, that in his opinion there was nothing to be done except to have her put to sleep. I looked into her beautiful green eyes and knew I just couldn’t agree to that and implored the vet to give me any other possible solutions. He wearily muttered something about how some cats can calm down a little after they have had a litter of kittens. Well that was obviously the answer, I thought, delighted that I had the ultimate excuse to have kittens around me for at least 8 weeks!

Babs duly complied and in a short space of time it was very obvious that she was pregnant. She had always been very slim and now she had a very large tummy which we could actually see moving as her kittens were stretching and vying for position inside her. Her tempestuous nature though hadn’t changed one jot, except as her pregnancy went on she did give up the climbing and leaping. I was beginning to wonder if I had made the right decision.

Eventually, after what seemed an eternity, Babs went into labour. I had been to the library and read all about kitten births and had everything at the ready, although everyone told me that she would be very independent and would most probably prefer me to just leave her alone. I had made a kittening area in the corner of the bed sit, and was chuffed when Babs decided it was the perfect place to give birth. I put on gentle music and soft lighting so that it could be a relaxing environment for her.

I went over and stroked her and spoke gently to her, telling her everything would be fine. The contractions became stronger and I thought I should now leave her to it. As I walked away she got up and followed me, so I went back to the corner and sat with her again, comforting her. I could see that a kitten was due any second and really thought it was time for me to leave her, again, as I got up to leave she got up to be with me. OK, I said, and I laid down beside her, and stroked her all the way through her first kitten being born. Instinctively she knew exactly what she should do and within a short time the tiny little kitten was hooked on to one of Babs teats. About ten minutes went by and contractions started again and another kitten was born. I stayed with Babs the whole time, speaking softly to her, assuring her as best I could. After just over an hour had passed she had given birth to six beautiful kittens. I cleared up the area and gave her new soft towels to lay on. What I had realised was how gentle she had been with me through the birthing and hoped it would continue.

From that day onwards our relationship changed dramatically. She became the most wonderful cat I could wish for. I became quite ill and had to undergo several operations, and she would sit beside me all day until the family came home. As I managed to walk a little further each day she would walk beside me. Neighbours would comment that whatever time I came home from work, which could vary greatly day-to-day, Babs would wander up to the gate about five minutes before and be waiting for me. She talked incessantly and would be telling me all about her day as we walked together along the path to the front door. It sounds mad I know, but she would really be trying to talk to me, I could feel it.

Although she was great with me she still was not good at the vets, so much so that the vet would only examine her or give her annual vaccinations if she had been tranquilized. We did this for many years and for some reason I always felt like I was letting her down. On one particular occasion she was due to have her pre-vet medication and as I was about to crush the tablets into her food I was sure I heard her thoughts. She told me that she hated the feeling of being tranquilized and promised she would be very good at the vets. I held her face in my hands and looked deep into her eyes, “ok” I said,” I’ll trust you, but you have to be on your best behaviour.” If anyone had heard me they would have thought I’d gone mad.

The vets face was a picture of concern as the realisation dawned on him that Babs was not sedated in the slightest. I took her out of her basket and put her on his examining table. I told him that she said she would be good as gold. He gave me a ‘that woman is crazy’ kind of look but was surprised how well behaved she was. She was looking straight at me as he put the needle in the back of her neck. I heard her say, by what I can only think was some kind of thought transference, see I told you I’d be good!

I was working but always had Mondays off work to do the washing/ironing, shopping etc. This particular Monday had started off quite normally. My husband went to work just after 8am and I took my daughter to school just before 9am. I popped into the shops on the way home. I remember it was a lovely sunny late summers day. We had moved into a brand new house in the January and hadn’t met many of the neighbours at all. It seemed to me that every morning there was a mass exodus as everyone went to work, and the only time many people were around was on the weekend.

As I opened the front door a feeling of utter doom came over me. I started crying and as I walked into the kitchen I looked at Babs bowls and I remember hearing her say ‘come and get me’. I knew she was dead. I was howling. I phoned my Dad and sobbed down the phone to him that Babs was dead. He asked what had happened and I told him I didn’t know. I said I didn’t know where she was but that I knew she was dead. My Dad tried to calm me down and told me that she was most probably fine. He asked if I had called her and I said no, I knew there was no point. I told Dad that I would go and find her and would phone him back. I phoned my husband and told him too and I am sure he thought I had gone mad. He too told me to go looking for her and he thought she might have been locked in a garage or shed somewhere. It was so difficult to explain to them that I knew absolutely that she was dead. There was no point in looking for her in the garage.

I picked up a shopping basket and walked aimlessly down the road, looking at all the empty drives by the houses. Eventually I saw a house with a car on the drive and knocked on the door, as it happened I had met the woman who answered and she could see I was very distressed. I asked her if she would come with me and look for my cat. She kindly agreed and I instinctively knew where to go. We walked along the road, quite a way, we turned left, past more houses and finally I walked up a bank onto a single railway track. Babs was lying on the track. She had been hit by a train. I couldn’t bear to pick her up and had to ask the site manager if he could go and get her for me. I phoned my Dad and told him straight away. He asked me how I had known and I tried to explain. Dad was always aware of spirits through his life and he said he thought it was because Babs and I had such a strong bond. I phoned my husband and he was just stunned. He came home from work straight away. I felt desolate.

For many months afterwards I was aware of Babs walking up the bed and even now, many many years later, I am sure I see her momentarily. She was one very special cat and I shall never forget her.

I have often wondered about the ‘dreams’ or what I prefer to call ‘visits’ that I’ve had for over 40 years now. In my sleep state I have often spent time with relatives and friends who have passed to spirit. Sometimes we just sit and chat and at other times we sing and dance, or my favourite, we fly, plane free, over the most beautiful countryside, over the sea or even up into the darkness of the universe, the wind rushing past us as we effortlessly fly past shining stars. There are two main differences I have noticed between these experiences and ‘dreams’ . Firstly I remember that I am aware that they have passed from this physical life, in fact we often discuss it at the time, and secondly, I have vivid recollections of these’ visits’ and years and years later I can still remember every moment of them.

A couple of weeks ago my good friend Kay loaned me a wonderful thought-provoking book. It was the kind of book I just couldn’t put down, it just made me think so much. One of the chapters was about astral travel, something I admit I have never really been interested in, but the book was so good I thought I might as well read it. I was stunned to find similar examples of my own ‘dream/visit’ experiences and was really excited to read that you could actually ask spirit to travel to you before you fell asleep at night. So all tucked up, next to my unsuspecting, sceptical husband Simon, I said my usual prayers and then remembered to ask my spirit family to travel to visit me. I didn’t even think to mention it to Simon.

At three in the morning I was awoken by Simon literally leaping out of bed, racing round the bed to the bedroom door and putting the main light on. I was shocked! I asked what he was doing. He told me that I had been in the doorway and I couldn’t see because it was dark so he had to put the light on. I laughed and told him I’d been asleep and told him to come back to bed. I didn’t even think about the request I’d put in with spirit a few hours earlier.

The next evening I went to my regular development circle run by my friend Annette. She was standing outside with other members of the circle as I arrived. She was obviously excited and couldn’t wait to talk to me. She told me that she had been aware of being in my house in the middle of the night! Then she went on to tell me that she had seen Simon (with no clothes on!) and had told him to put a shirt on. She said that there had been quite a gathering and she had wondered why she was there. I was stunned and couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing. I was covered in goose bumps, which I call truth bumps, which for me are always a sign of a spiritual truth. Her face was an absolute picture as I then told her what had happened in the night and especially when I told that I had specifically asked for my spirit family to visit that night. She was struggling to come to terms with what had appeared to have happened. We were both just so amazed.

I couldn’t wait to get home to tell Simon. In his typical sceptical way he said it must have been a coincidence. I asked him how many times in his lifetime he had jumped out of bed and put the main light on. He admitted he never had before.

A few days later Annette was discussing the events of that night with a good spiritual friend of hers and said she had been wondering why on earth she would have been in my house that night. She told her friend that I had asked for my spiritual family to visit and her friend told her that it make perfect sense as she is most probably a member of my soul group. When Annette told me I was again covered in my truth bumps, the explanation made so much sense to me.

Annette decided it would be a great idea to set up an astral travel experiment and Kay agreed. Now every night before we go to sleep, all three of us ask if we can astral travel together. Kay really fancies popping off to Hawaii, a place she visited and loved on holiday. Every morning we contact each other and compare notes. So far, not one of us has any recollections of travelling anywhere, but there is still that wonderful anticipation every night that we could all end up in our hula skirts on a sun-kissed beach!